


Harry Potter and the Next Overlord

by JLawrence_Kenny



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Overlord 2
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-04-11
Updated: 2011-06-01
Packaged: 2017-10-17 22:36:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JLawrence_Kenny/pseuds/JLawrence_Kenny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Harry blows up part of Little Whinging, he is collected by a band of Minions and taken back to the Netherworld, where he learns that he is to become the next Overlord. Will he succumb to the ways of Evil? And will he Dominate or Destroy those who stand in his path? DarkHarry and Harem</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Evil Always Finds A Way

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, blah blah blah, J.K Rowling has no idea what romance is, blah, blah, I don't really care about this part, so just start reading already!

Chapter 1: Evil Always Finds A Way

Harry could already tell this summer was going to be horrible.

How did he know? Well, for starters, he hadn't even reached the second week of his vacation and he was currently pinned against an alley wall by his cousin Dudley's goons, about to be pummeled into oblivion. He was, quite literally, stuck between a rock and a hard place, and as such he was rather scared. However, he wasn't particularly frightened of these bullies; he had enough power to send them running for the hills if he so wanted, because Harry Potter was a wizard.

Piers, the bully currently holding Harry up, had long lost his skinny frame since joining Dudley's boxing team and was now a lean, mean, beating machine, though one could still see that he had once been as skinny as Harry was now by his long face and nose. "Well, well, Potter," Piers sneered, "Dudley happened to mention the other day that you were leaving for good this summer, so the boys and I figured we'd give you a going-away present." The other boys behind Piers, whose names Harry had never bothered to learn, sniggered at the lame joke.

"That was so nice of you, Piers. What'd you get me? Obviously, it couldn't be any courage, since none of you have any." Harry responded. Piers growled and pushed Harry harder against the wall, whose only reaction was to sigh in exasperation. You might be wondering why, if Harry was a wizard, he didn't simply magic his way out of the situation? It was a rather simple reason: Harry was still underage in the wizarding world and therefore could not use magic without getting in trouble. While he was sure that as the savior of the Wizarding world the Ministry of Magic would be lenient in his punishment (if they gave him any), but they would be sure to want a statement from Harry in support of the idiotic actions of Scrimgeour and Umbridge. Such was Harry's predicament: either save himself from these bullies and owe the Ministry an undeserved favor, or let the bullies beat him up and deny the Ministry any opportunities to use him.

Harry thought the latter option sounded much better in the long-term, but he also really didn't feel like getting beat up. As the bullies moved in closer to Harry, he started to grow angry at the whole predicament. It was ridiculous that he couldn't even defend himself despite being a month away from his 17th birthday and emancipation. The injustice of it all began to fill Harry's mind, blocking out the insults and threats the bullies kept directing at him. Had they bothered to pay closer attention to the boy in their grasp, Piers and his friends would have noticed a black haze beginning to form around his body.

It wasn't until the wall behind Harry cracked loudly that the others noticed anything out of the ordinary about the boy they were about to beat up. Aside from the black aura surrounding his body, the normally skinny boy seemed to grow a foot taller as well as significantly broader, and his once green eyes now glowed red with a malicious energy. Piers and his gang suddenly realized they had someplace else to be… anywhere but here. Before they could move more than a few steps toward the exit of the alleyway, Harry's anger literally exploded. A blast of pure magical energy erupted from his frame as he let out an anguished scream. The bullies and half the building in front of Harry were completely disintegrated.

Harry stood with his hands on his knees, panting heavily as he slowly calmed down. When he looked up, he seemed completely baffled at the scene of destruction that lay before him. How could he have done that? He knew one thing for sure though; he had to leave before anyone from the Ministry of Magic popped in to investigate.

Unfortunately, the adrenaline coursing through Harry's system was only enough to sustain him for three steps before magical exhaustion mercilessly stopped Harry in his tracks, who unceremoniously fell to the ground. Well, this sucks. That was the last thing Harry thought before slipping into a coma from the exhaustion. The last thing he saw was a creature that resembled a house-elf picking through the wreckage left by Harry's outburst, and the creature's raspy question of "Mastah?" being the last thing he heard…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Harry fell asleep, the elf-like creature crept closer to the sleeping wizard, clearly afraid of another explosion like the last one. It carried a club, and was dressed in only a loincloth and ragged shirt. Sensing no immediate danger, it stood and yelled "All clear!" over its back, revealing more elf-like creatures just like the first one who quickly rushed to the fallen wizard, barking a rough chorus of "Mastah, mastah!" as they examined him. One more of these creatures approached at a much more leisurely pace; he was very old, if the hunched back, white hairs, and numerous scars were anything to go by, as well as the fact that when he spoke, it was in coherent sentences.

"Hmm, what have we here?" the old creature asked, mostly to himself since the others were busy picking up bits of rubble and attempting to either wear them as hats or knock each other with them. The old creature lifted one of Harry's arms then let it fall to the ground, disgusted. "A rather skinny frame with no real muscle of which to speak, but that can be easily remedied. Much more impressive was the blast of magic we just witnessed. Perhaps, just perhaps… either way, it is for the tower to make the final decision. Minions! Take the boy back to the Netherworld!"

The Minions, for that was what they were called, quickly obliged with a chorus of "Yes, Gnarl!" and picked up the unconscious boy with their scaly hands, carrying him to a giant gate that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the park nearby. Gnarl turned away from the Minions, again musing to himself. "Yes indeed, someone with a magical core as powerful as that could definitely be a suitable candidate for Overlordship. After all, Evil always finds a way."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's the second chapter everyone. Thanks for all the reviews I've gotten from you, I definitely didn't expect such a great response. Also, Cypher3au pointed out to me that my reasoning behind Harry's aversion to using magic last chapter was a little off. Being an avid Harry Potter fan, this shames me to no end, and I have fixed it, so if you have the time (or no life like me), feel free to go over the minor changes in the last chapter. Without further ado, here's chapter two! (That rhyme was totally not planned, by the way)

Discovery

Hermione Granger had always been an early waker, as she had felt that any time spent doing anything other than studying was time wasted. Granted, much of her morning study time had been devoted to keeping certain friends of hers – namely, Harry Potter – alive, but her morning routine remained the same.

Therefore she was not surprised to find herself alone in the kitchen after she woke up early one morning in her parent's house. Stretching and stifling a yawn, she looked at the clock on the wall: 4:45 AM. A little early even for her, she merely shrugged the inconvenience off and padded her way over to the cupboard, where she retrieved a box of cereal, a bowl, and a spoon, as well as some milk from the icebox. Hermione had tried (several times) to surprise her parents and cook breakfast for the whole family, but that had resulted in several embarrassing and unnecessary visits from the fire brigade; she had eventually given it up as a lost cause and resorted to food that would not accidentally burn the whole house down.

As she sat down at the table, she surveyed the two papers on the table before her. Aside from deciding which book to read later, the most difficult decision of Hermione's day was usually just choosing which paper to read first: Magical or Muggle. Settling on the Muggle newspaper first, she poured herself her first bowl of cereal cornflakes and then picked up the paper and began reading. On the very front page of The Times of London, there was a very large picture with the title Six Possibly Dead in Terrorist Bombing. Hermione felt a sharp twist of fear in her gut as she saw the article; half of the block had been completely vaporized while the other half was basically untouched. Such precise destruction, she knew, could only be a result of a very specific terrorist: the most feared Dark wizard of their time, Lord Voldemort.

Hermione didn't know what was worse, the possible deaths of six people, or the fact that it barely affected her emotionally.

Shaking her head to clear it of unnecessary thoughts, Hermione kept reading the article. Basically it read that a bomb had exploded in a town near London, supposedly killing six local teenagers. The reason it was only supposed was because no remains had been found and six teenagers had never arrived at their homes the previous night. The paper theorized that the teens may have been so close to the explosion that their bodies had been completely vaporized by the blast, but it was also possible that they had been kidnapped. To Hermione, it sounded like a shaky theory at best, which further hinted at magical involvement; the Ministry was horrible at covering up Voldemort's attacks on the Muggle population.

However, something besides the shoddy cover-up nagged at Hermione after she read the article. Something told her it had to do with Harry, but she couldn't quite figure it out. Thinking she must have overlooked some minor detail that her subconscious picked up, she decided to reread the article; however, she didn't get more than two sentences in before she saw two words that turned her blood to ice:

Little Whinging.

Hermione wasn't the brightest witch at Hogwarts for nothing, but it also didn't take a genius to figure out that it was more than mere coincidence that an explosion that large would occur in a small suburban town that housed the most important wizard the entire magical world. Throwing the muggle newspaper aside, she unfurled The Daily Prophet hoping her worst fears were nothing more than fears rather than facts. The headline proved her otherwise.

 _THE-BOY-WHO-LIVED MISSING?_

 _Late last night, a magical explosion rocked the small town of Little Whinging. Utterly vaporizing half a block, the detonation could be felt as far as the Ministry of Magic in London, who immediately sent out a team of Aurors to investigate the disturbance. What they found was a scene of utter destruction; the magical discharge had completely wiped out part of the block and, upon further investigation, killed six Muggle teenagers that happened to be passing by._

 _Of much more significance is the fact that this suburban town is home to The-Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, and that he has seemingly disappeared off the face of this Earth. Mr. Potter's guardian, Mr. Vernon Dursley, gave us this response when asked of the whereabouts of The-Boy-Who-Lived. "I don't know where that freak nephew of mine has gone to, and I don't want your kind in my house at all. In fact, I'd just as soon never see his sorry face again."_

 _Also, in a disturbing turn of events, the Aurors investigating the scene announced that the magic used In the destruction of Little Whinging was unlike any they had ever seen before. Rather than a spell, the explosion seemed to have been merely that: a tremendous outpouring of pure magical energy. This writer has a few theories on this revelation. Perhaps the famous Boy-Who-Lived had been involved in an emotionally intense moment and, unable to legally cast magic, the energy from these emotions built up inside his body until they literally exploded outwards. The response of his guardian seems to support this theory, however, since neither the body nor the magical remains of Mr. Potter were found at the scene, this theory is implausible, since such a large blast would surely have left him unconscious and unable to move, and also does not account for the strange magical signature found at the scene._

 _Continued on Page 4…_

"Harry…" she sobbed. Hermione thought quickly: while it was doubtful that she could find anything that the Aurors wouldn't have already found, she knew that, for the sake of her best friend, she had to at least visit the site. Ron also needed to be informed since he was still probably in the coma he called sleep. Her mind decided, Hermione quickly took a pen and paper from a nearby drawer to inform her parents of the situation, then quietly stepped outside their flat and Apparated to The Burrow, home of her other best friend, Ron Weasley, and his family.

Meanwhile, deep in the Netherworld, Gnarl and his minions stood watch over the comatose form of Harry Potter. The minions pushed and shoved each other aside, trying to get a better look at the young wizard that lay on the bed in the Private Quarters. Gnarl, of course, showed a bit more restraint than his younger companions, but felt obliged to punt one of the rowdier minions out into the hall when he became slightly too rambunctious.

Gnarl made a mental note to make him clean out the Burrows for a month, then turned back to the boy. The Netherworld's choice of a new evil Overlord puzzled him quite a bit. From everything I've read, thought Gnarl, this boy is the complete antithesis of Evil in every way. Not to mention he is a bit younger than most recruits we find… However, the Netherworld gate had sent them to that small town, and he was the only magical creature around. The explosion of magical energy only helped the minions locate their possible new master much more quickly than normal; it nearly singed their ears off even though they were almost two blocks away. Furthermore, even though the boy himself positively reeked of light magic, the blast of energy that led to his discovery had been remarkably… angry. While "angry" was a far step from Evil (with a capital E), it showed that the boy definitely had the potential to become the next Overlord.

At the moment, though, he most closely resembled a bump on a log; the explosion of energy had exhausted him physically and mentally, and he had been asleep for more than 12 hours. Gnarl did not expect his condition to change overmuch for a while, and so he turned to leave the Private Chambers, ducking to avoid a vase thrown by the obnoxious Minion from earlier. "SNOTRAG! Throw one more thing and I'll throw you into the river of souls! Good luck convincing Mortis to fish you out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wwll, there's your update people! Constructive criticism is always welcome, and I have two requests for you this evening: 1. Do you like the chapter lengths? or Would you prefer them slightly longer? Keep in mind this may affect the update time negatively. and 2. I have need of a Beta Reader, preferably someone with plenty of experience in both stories. Thanks again for reading!


	3. Early Morning Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione seeks refuge and solace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dear readers. Sorry for the lack of updates; I've actually had this chapter finished for a week, but my internet router blew up so I had to get a new one. Anyway, the general consensus seems to be in agreement for short chapters with more updates, so I'll just keep writing as usual. So, without further ado, here's chapter 3. (That one didn't rhyme, unfortunately.)

Early Morning Visit

Hermione sat sobbing in the living room of the Weasley's home. After her Apparition to the home of her second best friend, Ron Weasley, the two of them had immediately Apparated to the site of the magical explosion in Little Whinging. While Ron had rushed straight toward the massive crater, Hermione hesitated for a minute. Though she had taken the initiative in getting Ron and herself to the neighbourhood, once there she found herself having second thoughts: if she found something that might prove of Harry's demise, she wasn't sure that she would be able to hold it together. And even if she didn't, that only left the certainty that Harry had been kidnapped, whether by Voldemort or someone else, it couldn't be good. Luckily, she had been startled out of her reverie by multiple pops signifying Apparition, and found herself looking at the rest of the Weasley family (all still dressed in their nightclothes).

All had offered their support to her, and that alone was almost enough to send her off into a crying fit, but she managed to pull herself together and strode forward through a small park and toward the gaping hole in the alley. Along the way, however, she noticed something off about a certain rock in the park; it was quite large, midnight black, and surrounded by four other rocks of the same colour and texture. She would have investigated further, but the Weasleys had brought her attention back to the task at hand. She figured she was just trying to find a way to distract herself from the difficult task ahead, but even after the group had determined that Harry was, in fact, still alive, and had returned to the Burrow, those rocks still nagged at her in the back of her mind. There was definitely something off about those rocks, thought Hermione, barely even noticing as Ron entered the room and sat down next to her, also in a miserable mood.

"What're we going to do, Hermione?" Ron asked quietly.

"I don't know…" Her reply was just as quiet, but she was hardly paying attention. Thinking about those rocks, attempting to figure out the mystery behind them helped keep her sorrow at bay. The colour was too perfect to be naturally occurring, and the layout of them made them seem as though they were actually placed there for a reason. One thing is for sure, though. I need to get a closer look at them. However, Hermione wasn't sure whether she would be able to visit the site once again, and she needed emotional support, and as nice as Ron was, he wasn't exactly the most emotional person in the world, and wouldn't help much when she was attempting to figure out the significance of the rocks. However, she knew just the person she could count on, and she happened to live nearby.

"Ron? Could you ask your Dad to Floo-call Luna's house? I need to talk to her." In response to his questioning look, Hermione merely said, "Girl-talk."

Predictably, Ron dropped the subject and went to find Mr. Weasley. As Hermione waited, she thought about Luna Lovegood. Certainly, her outlook on life was… different to say the least, and she had eccentric beliefs that often confused Hermione, but she was a Ravenclaw for a reason. She was certainly one of the brightest witches of their age. And who knows, maybe her strange way of thinking could shed some light on the situation by forcing Hermione to look at it from a different angle.

Ron walked back in. "Mr. Lovegood said that it's fine for you to come over." After this, Ron fell back into one of the chairs dejectedly, and for a moment Hermione wondered if perhaps she should stay and give him some company. But she had already asked to go over to Luna's, so it would've been rude to stay, so she settled for giving Ron a hug as she left the room. As she popped into the Lovegood's kitchen, she took in her surroundings, her natural curiosity overcoming her despair. As she expected, their home reflected the bizarre mindset of the young girl who lived there – every counter, table, and cabinet seemed filled with odd things that Hermione had only read about, and that had no real use of which she could think. Hermione figured that this implied that Luna's father was just as dotty as she was, so when he entered the room wearing a shirt covered in feathers, she was not overly surprised.

Luna's father took Hermione's hand into his, saying "My name is Xenophilius Lovegood, Luna's father, of course. She's upstairs, second doorway on your left." Hermione shook his hand warmly, thinking perhaps that he actually was a sane man (perhaps the shirt had been a gift of Luna's?) and that she had been hasty in passing judgment, until she opened the door and he said, "Do keep an eye out for the Baltoors on your way up, they'll do horrible things to your digestive tract." Hermione climbed the stairs, and then entered Luna's room, who greeted Hermione in her usual, dreamy fashion.

"Oh, hello Hermione, do come sit down." Hermione took the spot on the bed Luna had indicated. She may have been a peculiar person, but Luna's presence was contagious; for the first time in several hours, Hermione was finally able to relax thanks to Luna's dreamy demeanour. Luna sat across from Hermione and stared at her, waiting for Hermione to begin talking; so Hermione went into detail about her hectic morning. And when Hermione went into detail, she really went into detail – she didn't finish her story for almost 2 hours, concluding with her hypothesis on Harry's survival. Luna, typically, remained emotionless during Hermione's story. While Hermione was grateful to her for allowing her to get all her emotions out (she had even broke down sobbing into Luna's arms when she told her about when she found Harry's magical presence at the explosion site), she was still worried that Luna had not had any reaction regarding the news.

At the end of Hermione's narrative, Luna blinked. "Well, Hermione, I would have to agree with your theory. I think Harry is still alive, since You-Know-Who would want to make sure the wizarding world knew about it immediately. Kidnapping seems most likely, since such a powerful explosion would have left Harry unconscious. Is there any chance we could return to the site now before the magical residue dissipates? Maybe I can help shed some light on the situation myself."

"That was actually why I came here," replied Hermione. I know I'm not exactly thinking clearly, so I wanted your help."

At this, Luna gave a light smile. "I'm glad you think so highly of my opinion, Hermione. We should get going, then."

Hermione nodded, then stood to leave, but was stopped when Luna grabbed her arm. Hermione looked at Luna, confused, but then noticed that Luna's own eyes were suddenly filled with concern. "H-Harry, is going to be alright, isn't he?" enquired Luna. Hermione almost starting crying again after hearing the worry in Luna's voice.

"Yes, Luna. He'll be fine. He's Harry. Now let's go find him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there's your update, ladies and gentlemen of internet land. Personally, I feel the chapter feels a bit rushed (I'm just as eager as you to get back to Harry), but I also kinda think that matches Hermione's state of mind at the moment. As always, read and review, if not I'll track your IP address and send you viruses. O:)
> 
> Next time, Harry wakes up and Luna clues Hermione in.


	4. Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wakes up in the Netherworld, and Hermione has a fit.

Confusion

As Harry regained consciousness, the first think he noticed was pain. Aching pain all over his body. While this was troubling – pain was, after all, not a pleasurable experience – it did give Harry a certain measure of reassurance. Dead people didn't feel pain, after all; that particular torture was reserved for those still among the living.

Satisfied he was alive, Harry also wanted to make sure that he was more than just a head. He took a breath, and his chest hurt like hell as a result. At least I still have a torso, thought Harry. Next he tried moving his right thumb. Yup, pain there too. Same with his left. Harry continued this painful inventory of his body until he was convinced he was completely whole. In pain, certainly, but he was still in one piece.

However, this also brought up the question of where exactly Harry was. He felt soft cushioning under his body, which he thought was surprising considering he had been in an alleyway before... whatever happened, had happened. It was also quite wark, as if he was sleeping near a fireplace, although quite a bit hotter. Actually, a more appropriate simile would be that it felt as if he were sleeping near a furnace. He tried opening his eyes, but closed them immediately. The light attacked his neglected retinas, causing another spasm of pain to shoot through his body, and he moaned in agony.

After Harry's nerves settled down, he noticed a plethora of sounds that had previously ignored. Understandable, considering the pain he was in, but now he could distinctly hear the mutterings and scurrying of small creatures. Suddenly, Harry began to panic. What if he had been captured by Death Eaters and was now deep within the lair of Voldemort himself? If this was the case, he could honestly say he was screwed. With the mild adrenaline rush that resulted from this frightening revelation, Harry pushed himself up into a sitting position and forced himself to open his eyes, able to push the pain aside for the moment. What he saw was definitely not what he had expected.

Rather than a dungeon cell, Harry found himself inside a very ornate bedroom. It appeared to be carved straight out of stone and rather devoid of decoration, as well as crumbling away in certain parts; despite the state of disrepair, Harry could tell this room was originally quite beautiful. The only part of the room not carved straight from the rock was where he had been laying, a rather nice-looking bed, blood-red in colour, but also moth-eaten from neglect. Nothing could prepare Harry for what he saw when he looked down past the bed, though.

Standing no less than five feet away from him were a half a dozen of the strangest creatures he had ever seen. As they crowded towards Harry with the occasional utterance of "Mastah?" or "Oooh!" he thought that in the magical world, the closest comparison he could make was that they looked like the result of breeding between house-elves and goblins. They were about 3 feet tall, brown, and skinny. The majority of them wore nothing but ratty loincloths, but a few also had leather chestplates. Upon closer inspection, he noticed they all sported scars all over their bodies, or had parts missing – one of the creatures was missing an ear, another an eye, one was even missing an entire hand – so they were obviously not creatures of peace.

Needless to say, these tiny creatures freaked Harry out.

Before he could make any effort to escape from the ugly goblin/elf creatures, another one of them pushed through the crowd and neared Harry, who pushed himself further back onto the bed. He had to give up his escape attempt, however, when another flash of pain passed through his exhausted limbs.

"Calm yourself, Master, I am not here to hurt you. My name is Gnarl, minion master and devoted servant of darkness." The creature, Gnarl, bowed his head slightly in Harry's direction, who took the opportunity to look it over more carefully. Like the other creatures, Gnarl looked like the love child of a goblin and a house-elf who had had one too many Butterbeers at a party. Unlike them, however, this creature was gray, and significantly older, if the excessive wrinkles and white hair was anything to go by. He was fully clothed and was holding on to some sort of staff with a lantern on the end.

Harry was still unable to really move, but he was still unsure of the creature's intentions. This gray thing had called him "Master," but he also said he was a devoted servant of darkness. If Harry knew anything, it was that anything related to evil and darkness usually wanted him dead. Not to mention that, while the creatures were creepy, they didn't strike him as particularly dark. Therefore, he was understandably confused. "You seem a bit short to be evil." The brown creatures behind the gray one laughed raucously at Harry's jibe.

The "Gnarl," or whatever it was, took the insult in stride however, and continued onward. "True, Master, I may not look very evil, but trust me when I say I come from advising a long line of Evil people, most of them you have probably heard of. We minions have always been at the side of the most Evil of evildoers through the course of history, to whom we refer as the Overlords!"

Of course, this sent another rush of fear through Harry. Obviously, if these "minions" or whatever they were served Evil and evildoers, that must mean they worked for Voldemort! He was the only evil person Harry knew of, and you didn't get much more evil than Voldemort. "So, what then? Are you just holding me until Voldemort can come here and finish me off himself?"

The gray minion narrowed its eyes at Harry, as if he was missing something very obvious. Luckily for Harry, Gnarl decided to point the obvious in an obvious manner. "I should have thought it clear already, Master. The new Overlord we serve, our new Master...

Is you."

Meanwhile, Luna and Hermione had just Apparated to Little Whinging and were now in the process of examining the obsidian-like stone that stood for no apparent reason in the corner of the small playground near the explosion.

So far, they hadn't gotten anything out of it.

After she discerned that the rock was indeed of magical origin, Hermione had tried every spell she knew on the rock to force it to reveal its secrets. But no matter what she did, the stone refused to yield. She had even resorted to Muggle methods at one point, (In other words, kicked it really hard) but still the rock defied her. Luna wasn't being much of a help either. For the most part she just sat on a nearby fence, occasionally shouting encouragement when Hermione had a tantrum and beat the rock with her hands, but other than that, she sipped on a Butterbeer and watched Hermione's antics.

After thirty minutes of spells, enchantments, kicks, and the sporadic swear word, Luna slid off the fence and walked up to the sweaty, panting Hermione. "I'm sorry, Hermione, it seems as though the rock doesn't like you very much. Maybe if you asked it nicely, it'll do something?"

Hermione scoffed at the idea. "Really, Luna? You think that asking a rock to tell me what happened to Harry will work? Alright, fine then, I'll try it." Hermione stomped up to the impertinent rock, then shouted, "HEY! MR. ROCK! SORRY TO BOTHER YOU, BUT I WAS WONDERING PERHAPS IF YOU COULD TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED YESTERDAY?"

The stone remained silent.

"That was a very good effort," commented Luna. "But I really don't think that'll work. It is a rock, after all, not a living organism." Still in her dreamy voice, she added, "You should be able to tell when I'm being facetious or not, Hermione, we've only known each other for two years. Besides, I think your outburst has scarred those children," pointing to a couple of young boys fleeing in terror from the screaming brunette.

Hermione's right eye began twitching uncontrollably, and Luna patted her on the back. "Perhaps we should call it a day, Hermione? I doubt the interrogation of your rock will yield any more evidence for now." Hermione hung her head, sighed, then nodded in resignation. The two of them stood up, Luna dusting off her nightclothes, and made their way back to the designated Apparition spot. Just before they twisted back to Luna'

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I guess I'll go with the typical "IF YOU READ IT, LEAVE ME A REVIEW!" ending to my chapter. Also, to all readers who actually know about the Overlord game, I'm thinking of adding a 5th minion Hive. Any ideas for colors and powers would be greatly appreciated. Until next time!


End file.
